


Art

by IlluminateandRelate



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Art, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Painting, Post-Canon, QS, Tokyo Ghoul: re, Urie paints mucchan, headcannon child, heavily implied oral sex, quinx squad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlluminateandRelate/pseuds/IlluminateandRelate
Summary: art *1nounnoun: art; plural noun: arts; plural noun: the arts1.the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.The post-canon painting of Mutsuki Tooru we all needed.





	1. Free

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the reason my updates slowed.... tee hee sorry. Please enjoy me and @missfubar's headcanon brainchild that I couldn't resist writing :D

It was his mother who had bought him his first set of paints. His mother who had placed the brushes into his chubby waiting hands with the words  _ Now you can make whatever you want _ .

_ Whatever I want? _

_ Whatever, whenever, however. _

_ How will I know what I want to paint? _

_ You’ll know. _

He knew.

He knew just as thoroughly as he loved, as he breathed, he knew just as much as he craved.

He knew.

A part of him was embarrassed at the behavior, somewhat laughing at the paintings decked all over the floor and the easel. The layers of acrylic and oils in soft and harsh layers against the soft texture of the pale canvas, and they were never perfect, something always missing. He supposed maybe it was because Mutsuki was always missing. Far away and gone, the only traces left the ones of green and white that Urie drew.

The room was full of him, all painted over with base white because he quickly became dissatisfied but whenever he faltered his fingers sketched out the soft green eyes. His mind fell to the gentle floor of the dreadful mist and soupy anguish of it all, basking, wallowing. He could never quite pull himself from it once he'd started.

Sometimes the paintings looked too real, too much, too upsetting that they were in fact just ugly layers of liquid color. He couldn't make him materialize and he couldn't bring him forth. So  _ why _ for the love of god was he still painting him? He painted the smile from ages ago, soft and curled at the edges, the eyes crinkling up ever so slight. He'd painted the soft slope of the almost too delicate nose, jagged from past breaks. He'd painted the bronze and careful skin.

He'd painted the blood and the gore of it all, the triumph and the beauty. He'd painted Mutsuki Tooru, and painted, and painted and-

It was all for nothing, he couldn't figure out why he was still here in the process and he should throw them away yes he should- It was creepy, wasn't it? To be so yearning and desperate when he sat here pathetic and boiling in his skin. It was wrong. And and- 

Mutsuki was coming to visit soon, so he should really put them at least away. Away so he didn't scare the other boy, so he could see his face, and read it at last and  _ for the love of god _ just be near him.

Urie frowned at his handiwork, still frustrated with some forgotten feature on the canvas. Something that didn't stand out right, stood out wrong just- just. It  was no use. Standing here wouldn't solve it. He turned and sighed, picking up a white sheet and throwing it over the current work in progress, he should sleep.

Sleep.  _ What a joke. _

When in recent times had he ever truly slept? The definition had changed, and now sleep meant lying awake and staring at the wall, at wishing things had turned out differently, at running through scenarios of things he could’ve said to make him stay.

Maybe it was unhealthy to think like this, no, it  _ was _ unhealthy. He should move on, and get better, and  _ stronger? _

He blinked at the blank wall, having never been one for decorating like Saiko or Higemaru. For the longest time he had liked it like that, the careful cream of the lacquered thing clean and empty of chaos. Peaceful and simple, just as he’d liked. Now though, they just felt barren- and maybe a bit lonely too.

He turned around to the other side, staring at the thin line of yellow light that stretched and elongated itself from the hallway. If he focused he could hear the mumble of Saiko from a room further down the narrow walkway, a few random  _ pings _ , some more grumbling and words ‘ _ stupid kids _ ’. He blinked, shut it out, focusing back on the quiet hum of his computer in his own room. Somehow, listening to the life outside the isolated prison just made him feel more lonesome than the deafening silence.

He closed his eyes, if he couldn’t sleep he might as well pretend he was going to, staying awake with something stimulating wouldn’t help his case much either. In the past perhaps he would’ve gone to the gym, but just like everything else he used to do the idea only tasted dry. He sighed, letting his brain drift with the currents of nighttime wonderings  _ it was going to be a while _ .

  
  


Morning as always came slow, light creeping in from a dark navy swoop to a golden filter through the officelike blinds of his room through a series of hours, projecting horizontal stripes across his duvet and the grainy rug. Urie sat upright slowly, having been in an odd sort of half sleep for a majority of the night, awake, out, and through again like a needle sewing through the draping and heavy fabric of unconsciousness. He pulled the blankets to the side, and stepped off, beginning to make his bed. It helped somewhat with the clutter of thoughts to at least have one thing organised.

He was tucking the last corner of duvet beneath the mattress when the heard the door creak open at the bottom of the stairs and a cacophony of voices explode in excitement. Urie froze, his hand still stuck beneath the layers of blankets. He felt his chest, devoid of air and struggling for intake burn, begging him to just  _ please _ , let him breathe.  _ Easier said than done. _

Mutsuki was early.

Urie wasn't sure why, he usually came later or on time but this time he was early. Five, he was supposed to come at five PM. If he had known the other boy was to come earlier he would've gotten up earlier, prepared rather than have himself caught off guard, rather than have a terrible case of bedhead and these disheveled insomniac eyes, red with lack of sleep.

He pulled out his hand from beneath the mattress smoothing down the duvet with the other before running it shaky and swift through his hair. He ought to take a shower, he couldn't go downstairs like this, he could feel the accumulating grease in his roots.

He turned walking into the bathroom attached to his room and turning on the tap to a flaming heat, stepping in once it got to an acceptable temperature, ready to scrub every bit of sweat and oil free.

 

_ Mutsuki- _

 

He was early, he knew that, he couldn't have warned them either, it had been a split second decision. He had been in town and saw that despite what he’d known beforehand there was a morning train he  _ could _ catch before the afternoon one, they had simply forgotten to put it on the website. He had gone to the house to grab his luggage and head over quickly to the train station, barely making it as it was with the train leaving mere minutes after he'd boarded.

Despite the grappling tension in his throat the reaction as he’d knocked and been let in was no different from the other times he’d visited. Saiko getting up from her bowl of "oatmeal" and shooting into his arms knocking him off kilter as he swung and stumbled backward.

He smiled, looking down at her for a moment before he turned up to greet the others still eating. He had never really grown very close to the other Qs, more a formal sort of friendship between superior officer and student but looking around it felt like the thawing of hands in front of a fire. Warming the ever settling chill that had since settled in his chest and throat. Looking around he noticed something, or  _ someone  _ missing.

"Where’s Urie?" he asked, stepping away from the Saiko who had since buried her head in his chest.

"Oh? Urie likes his beauty sleep, I can hear him in the shower now." She shook her head. "You eat breakfast yet, Mucchan? I can't imagine you have with that early of a train catch."

He laughed, "I haven't actually. First though," he stepped around walking over to the table. "I brought you guys some things." He dropped a canvas bag on the dark chestnut.

"Oooh yes," Higemaru said, fingers reaching quickly towards the bag before being slapped back away by Hsiao.

"Greedy bastard,” she scolded, “Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" she glared at him.

Mutsuki laughed quietly, an odd sort of nostalgia washing over him as he remembered Sasaki doing something of the sort once. A similar scene being  reenacted with Saiko and Urie when he'd visited Yuriko's bakery early in the morning to get pastries. He felt a sort of drop in his chest as it washed over him, the tide of memories and their feelings pulling him into the ocean of once upon a time.

He pulled himself back from the cold water, picking up the bag and pulling out the wrapped gifts. Handing them off to each one of them. Saiko and Higemaru quickly tearing into them as the others picked them up thanking him quietly.

"I'll be back down in a second," he said turning a foot towards the stairway. "I can hear the shower running from here, I'll drop this on his bed."

"Okay, Mucchan!" Saiko's cheery voice echoed as he made his way, "I'll pull out some of the synthetic stuff they're having us testing. Its not half bad!"

"You've been eating that?"  _ Hsiao _ , alarmed. "It's not for us! It's only for-"

"Someone had to try it for his royal highness in the shower."

He chuckled at the loud banter as it faded, the nerves creeping back into his body as he approached the brass knob. He recalled the last time he’d been in here, Urie had asked him to stay at the chateau, sad and almost pleading when he’d refused. He’d said it was because he needed new habits, a fresh breath, somewhere else.  _ He wondered how true that was now _ .

He opened the door, the room’s aura as quiet and clean as always. The bed was made- not unusual for Urie and the quiet sound of the shower filtered through the thin door. Mutsuki crept forward, trying to be careful as not to disturb or freak him out and set the wrapped gift on the clean linen. He looked around, several canvases layered against the sides of the walls, many painted white but others with traces of landscapes or other half-finished pictures Mutsuki couldn’t quite make out. His gaze settled on the easel on the opposite side of the room, the current painting covered with a white sheet, and Mutsuki chewed his lower lip.

_ He shouldn’t peek _ .

It was covered, it was covered for a reason, he knew that much, Urie never did anything without thinking first. Always analyzing, calculating. If he had masked something as private it was obvious, and exploiting it to other eyes well,  _ that was a death sentence. _

He stepped forward, fingers itching to pull back the sheet, curiosity running rampant in his brain like a dog unleashed. Urie would get out soon, he couldn’t get a chance for the rest of the week after this.  _ It was now or never.  _ He closed the rest of the distance, reaching forward to pull up the sheet just enough so he could see it.

He almost wished he hadn’t.


	2. Finding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Srry I took a break, I got tired af after last months writing expeditions. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

_ He almost wished he hadn’t. _

 

Mutsuki stared into a pair of his own watery green eyes, a rainbow reflected in the tiny white spots where the light was supposed to hit on the canvas, iridescent and shimmering. His hair was green in it, pulled back into a short ponytail. His eyes soft with a shimmer of long since forgotten empathy. The background was a blur of swirled blackness, his face in the piece almost glowing off of it. Pulled into focus, almost dragged forward with a sharp crystalized clarity.

He felt something in his chest pierce as he drew a quick breath-  _ this was from the auction _ . The clothes in the picture all too familiar,  _ that godforsaken dress _ . The whole thing felt ethereal, unrealistic, too perfect, too kind, that  _ couldn’t _ possibly be him. 

_ But it was.  _ He couldn’t misplace the scared and somewhat shocked expression on the art-him’s face. Once so familiar to have his features organizes in that manner on every mission, it felt like looking through a time machine.

He felt his eyes water, something dark and unnoticed in him clawing at his organs, squeezing them with its gripping claws, choking and suffocating him. He lifted his fingers up to his own chest, grasping at the pale white fabric that lay there. He stood up from his squatting positions, dropping the sheet with his free hand numbly. The crawling feeling that he'd once become oh so familiar with wormed its way through his heart like a bug in an apple, tunneling its way around as if it owned the place, eating away at what little remained. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath just like he'd worked on.

This was why he had left. To be free from these memories and their following ideas that followed him, pummeled him like wrecking balls, the ones that wouldn't let him free till he lay  down and bled.

A quiet cough pierced the air and Mutsuki's attention was diverted to a newly arrived Urie standing in the doorway to the bathroom, glancing around the room, his gaze not lingering in one place for too long. A towel rested upon his bare shoulders, his lower half wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. Mutsuki felt a fresh flow of heat burn in his already much too pink cheeks.

"Uh," he stuttered a moment, trying to find a grip on exactly the right words. "I was just-," he bit his lip, "dropping off a gift for you and glanced around-"

Urie for once looked like a deer in headlights, his eyes still unable to meet Mutsuki’s gaze sat somewhere just below his eye level. He walked over to his drawers in silence, pulling out a black T-shirt and pulling off the towel before putting on the shirt. He walked over to Mutsuki, who tried hard not to pay any attention to the fact that the other boy was still in his boxers.

“Sorry.” was all Urie managed, pulling off the canvas with the sheet still attached as he leaned it against the wall, “I know it’s weird, I was testing some things and got totally totally-.”

“It's good.”

Urie turned to him, eyes wide. Mutsuki pretended to not feel as if they were the spotlights they seemed to be, beaming on his face. Pretended it wasn’t odd for Urie to be so flustered and out of sorts, with the way he always seemed to have a plan, a set dialogue. That it wasn’t odd for him to be anything short of curt and precise even if he had changed over the year.

For so long it had seemed odd that Urie painted. Painting was for the chaotic minds, painting was for the ones who saw color and opportunity, who saw paths of curved rather than straight. Now though, it didn’t seem quite so alien.

“Its amazing really,” he found himself speaking again, desperate to fill the brimming silence with words. “You give my face more justice than it deserves.” Now he was talking into a corner, contradicting from his sprinting thoughts of before. That was the other part, why he couldn’t come back, why he had to leave. It was so easy to fall back into his old traps of longing.

No, those days were best left behind.

He heard a quiet hum of disapproval from beside him and his gaze shifted so that he was looking back at the other man. Urie’s lips were pursed, his gaze calculating again on the sheet pressed against that canvas on the wall. His fingers rest somewhere on his lower lip and his chin and he sighed before removing them.

“Not quite.”

“Huh?”

“It's not quite right.”

“Oh,” it sounded disappointed, he realized when it came from his mouth. Though, he supposed that he didn’t really know much about art. Each speculation was his own on what looked good or bad. Similar to when he went to see a film that critics hated and he ended up enjoying. If you didn’t know anything, everything seemed good.

“What's wrong with it?” Mutsuki asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the rest or run from the room of taut molecules that seemed to waver terrified with every stretched breath. Urie turned to meet his gaze at last, something in his eyes unfamiliar to what he’d ever seen before within his years of knowing him. A flaming, burning gaze, speckled with something akin to passion.

He blinked and whatever window Mutsuki had been looking through was gone, the stony gaze he had grown so accustomed to returned. Urie turned away, walking back over to the dresser to pull out a pair of pants, speaking as he pulled them onto his pale legs, he sat down when he’d finished.

“Not sure,” he said at last, shattering the glass silence with a hammer of speech.

“Maybe it’s in the face?” Mutsuki offered, hesitant, trying desperately to smother whatever anxious candle the painting had lit in his chest. Something in him, the fool, realized he wanted to be glowing like that in someone's mind. Not another part of the murky blackness he’d become oh so associated with but as the star he’d seen in the art. The sun to a solar system.

_ Idiotic really. _

“I wouldn’t be able to know, it’s hard to paint someone’s face when you never see them.” Urie said, his tongue dripping with bitterness, like the dregs of coffee at the bottom of a mug, distasteful and grainy.

Mutsuki shifted his gaze down to his fingers, a biting guild nipping at his heels. He opened his mouth, letting it flail in the air for a moment before closing it again. Urie was right, he hadn’t been to the Chateau in at least two months, now he came in expecting a warm welcome from everyone? Time moved things, changed them, it only made sense it would do the same here too. No matter what Mutsuki wanted to think the world was not static for the house and its members.

“I’m sorry.” He hushed into the frozen air, his gaze wavering even further downward. “I should vis-”

“No,” Urie interrupted, “No, you aren’t chained anywhere. You don’t have to do anything.” He glanced towards Mutsuki, the flaming gaze back. “I just miss you.”

Mutsuki’s  face must’ve been beet red by now. He glanced from the dark haired man next to him to the covered painting. Knowing the words on the tip of his tongue were dangerous, were a sentence to confine himself in his own swimming emotions he’d so carefully pulled himself from.

“Maybe, I could be a real-life reference.” It was barely audible, “If you want.”

He could’ve sworn he saw a flush in the other boy’s face, just under his hairline.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Make sure to leave kudos, comments, and subscribe if you enjoyed!
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	3. Tear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all I actually posted this chapter on the day/days I was planning to. I had a lot of fun writing this one so I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (Also, don't worry if you don't want smutty content, it is a fade to black before most things happen.)
> 
> Enjoy~

It was awkward. 

Whatever Mutsuki had been expecting it certainly wasn't this. The room was sifling and stuffy, the air flowing through the open window doing little to cool it off.  _ Maybe it was just him _ . He was sitting on a stool with little to no back support, just in his everyday clothes, the quiet of the room only interrupted by the low hum of Urie’s monitor in the corner of the room and the occasional scratch of a drying brush on canvas.

The window was behind him shining light on his back like a warming lamp and the way he was the only one standing there had him fighting the urge to worm out of the light. To stop the sensation of feeling like a germ beneath a microscope. It had only been about ten minutes, Urie having had suggested they do it in the late afternoon for the right hue of natural light. Mutsuki could tell though that he felt the heaviness and suffocating air of the silence as well too, the way it bent and curved in every wrong direction, unnatural and synthetic.

He cleared his throat, the itching quiet of the room growing unbearable with every passing moment he sat.

“Just before you get too far in, is this like a good pose or- I don’t know.” It would be best if he stopped talking,  _ yeah definitely would be best _ . For all he knew Urie had some kind of schedule or idea and he just needed Mutsuki there for light reasons like feature details. Urie frowned slightly, glancing up from behind the easel, eyes studying him again. Mutsuki fidgeted with his coat sleeves from beneath them.

“You’re right,” Urie said at last, walking around the stand and over to him. “It’s too stiff, unnatural.” His heartbeat lifted to a staccato pattern like rain as the other man came closer, part of him relieved he wasn’t isolated on this side of the room and part of him strained and nervous from the sudden closeness.

Mutsuki held his breath as Urie adjusted his coat, his eyes following his careful fingers as he adjusted the collar, folding the top down. His fingers skimmed the bronze skin as he pulled back and Mutsuki felt a cool chill shiver down his spine at the cool touch. He felt the ghost of them for moments after they had left, his breath still caught in his lungs. He watched as Urie bit his lip, his eyebrows creased in thought for a moment and Mutsuki’s gaze lingered there for a second before flicking back up to the rest of his face.

“Maybe without the stool,” he began speaking, leaving Mutsuki only half listening, the rest of him too focused on the nerve wracking compulsion that shot through him when Urie was close like this. The same one he’d left behind months ago, deciding the dripping high was a wrong step. The same one that’d fluttered like a dying butterfly in his bug catcher cage of a heart.

He blinked hard, his ears tuning back in on Urie's voice deep and smooth, wondering out loud if he should sit below the window beneath the fading sunlight. 

“That might work.” Mutsuki said as if he’d been listening the whole time, his chest had been sputtering something mad. He stood up, turning round and moving the stool over, ready to head towards the security of a wall rather than the exposed center of the room.

“Wait.”

He turned back, raising an eyebrow as Urie walked closer lifting a hand. “What is it?” he asked, the shuddering heartbeat like a crummy ignition behind his sternum. He swallowed as he felt cool fingers beneath the strap of his eyepatch sliding back and forth.

“Can I take this off?” Urie asked, his eyes meeting Mutsuki’s blown pupils as he nodded. Mutsuki felt the pressure of the sliding as he pulled it off, careful to fix any hair that had gotten mixed up. It was too slow, the air thick once thick with the awkward silence had settled into a more obvious but ignored sensation. The lingering touch of Urie’s fingers on his hair a subtle message.

_ They both knew _ .

And despite what screaming thoughts begged Mutsuki not to go forward, the dreading, dragging anxiety and fear. The clench and unclench in his chest that prayed for his legs to run, to go back home to the countryside where he belonged, his legs remained motionless and weighted like hundred pound chains had been shackled to them.

He didn’t move as Urie’s face drew nearer, didn’t move as he felt the other boys warm breath blow gently across his face. The tendrils of air around them quivered with the tension, a release near. As if on autopilot he watched his own hands lift and cup the nape of the boys neck, draw him nearer and growing surer with every passing second.

With one push Urie’s lips reached his and the air froze just a moment before exploding. It was as if a match had been struck to a tank of flammable gasses, his heart leapt into his throat and his eyes fluttered shut.

He melted into it, some unrecognized hunger climbing up and crawling into his head, deprived and touch starved. Urie kissed back just as fervent, his lips taking in Mutsuki’s like water, his arms pulling him closer, gripping to his waist. In seconds his mind had dissolved, his thoughts mixing and brewing into a foam that became incomprehensible like the churning waves on the ocean. White noise hummed in his ears, filling his thoughts, his brain, the only distinguishable sensation the thrum of his chest and the pressure of lips on his.

His hands crept their way up to cup Urie's face, just in front of the other boy’s ears. He stumbled closer, the flame inside of him igniting higher and higher as if lighter fluid was being poured on. He felt Urie's own hand wrap around his lower back, lips responding just as enthusiastic to his own. The heat and strength of it all warping around them like a hurricane, to which they were the eye.

It was probably a terrible thing- no,  _ was _ a terrible thing. The further and further he fell down the rabbit hole the more he knew it wasn't going to be easy to crawl back from its depths. He sighed against the other boy lips, pulling back for air and resting his forehead against Urie’s,  eyes still closed, he sighed.

_ Fuck. _

 

**_Urie_ **

 

Urie waited in silence for him to speak, to say something, anything, to respond. The room remained static and quiet, the careful heavy breathing penetrating only just. His fingers were gripped in the fabric of Mutsuki’s coat, surely wrinkling the fabric. His own eyes had flickered open moments ago but the other boy’s still remained fluttered shut, almost as if he were afraid to look.

The kiss hadn’t been one-sided, he was sure of that much. Was sure of the way he had felt Mutsuki's lips push and mold against his own, the shaking fingers at his face an encouragement to be closer, nearer. Urie took one hand from behind the other boy and rested it on top of Mutsuki’s left hand still cupping his cheek. A reassuring touch that it was not all in his head. He could still feel them on the tingle of his lips, the dry kiss having been long since awaited like a desert rain in the midst of a drought.

Mutsuki cleared his throat, bringing Urie's attention back to the now opened green eyes wider than the sea. He looked hazy, far away in his thoughts and far from Urie despite being so close and pressed to him, opening his eyes to reveal the sea depths behind the lids. The same ones Urie tended to drown in and choked in at any given time. The water filling his lungs with a burning urge to breathe, to inhale. Mutsuki opened his mouth, waiting another beat before speaking through soft lips, his voice hoarse in a quiet whisper.

"We shouldn’t." 

Urie felt the words like a blow to his chest. A mallet swinging and cracking a glass house, shattering it to bits. Every thread and fibre of his body alight with the burning, craving hope as it charred to ashes. He felt a strange pressure down on his chest.

"Why?" He asked, poorly suppressing the desperation screaming in his throat as it came out strangled. The air blanketing on them suffocating and thick. The only relief coming from the slight window breeze filtering through the room. It was dusk now, the afternoon having passed quicker than intended. With the fall allowing the darkness and black skies to reach their star fingers to earth much faster than normal.

“It's not good for me to be here like this. With you.” He waited a moment, biting his lip before continuing, “It’s not good for you either. I need to go forward to- to-” Urie took the stutter as an opportunity to seize the words.

“We  _ are _ forward.”

“But-”

Urie moved his hand from the fingers on his face and pressed a finger to Mutsuki’s lips to silence him, the other boy’s eyes wide and watery looking into his own. He continued in a hushed tone, “I don’t know why you keep pulling yourself away from here. I don’t know why you think nobody here will take you back in. I don’t know why you think being away is better, or why you keep punishing yourself like this.” He paused, closing his eyes the next words heavy on his tongue, “But I’m really fucking in love with you Mutsuki, and you don’t have to feel the same but  _ please, _ ” he felt his voice break off before finishing, “Don’t go just because you think you aren’t deserving.”

He couldn’t see the other boy but he felt the shaking from where he stood, felt the hands on his face drop to his shoulders and then down. He opened his eyes, a face of tears streaming down, the other boy’s eyes crinkled and bloodshot as his body wracked with quiet sobs. Urie reached a hand out to Mutsuki’s face to wipe off a tear with his thumb, a heavy weight in his stomach swinging like the pendulum of a clock.

Mutsuki met his gaze, holding it for a moment, eyes watering before he pulled forward, crashing his lips back into Urie’s. It was wet, the water left from Mutsuki’s eyes still on his cheeks, and he stumbled backward from the sudden force off kilter for a moment before falling back into the rhythm of before. A warm wave splashed over him, his chest expanding into nothingness as it filled with a warm humidity. He moved his hands around the back on Mutsuki’s neck, keeping his thumbs just in front of the other boy’s ears.

It was faster than before, more rushed and frantic, a desperate sort of tingle consuming them both. Mutsuki had his hands wrapped around Urie’s back keeping their chests pressed together as if he could get closer still. He backed up, dragging Mutsuki along with him, needing more support for the growing force finding himself tripping backward on the bed. He broke off from the other boy’s lips just for a moment for them to both clamber on before pulling himself back to meet them again.

His mouth was opened wider, and as soon as he could feel Mutsuki’s tongue find its way in his own he felt a flush of white creep its way into the blackness of his closed eyelids.  _ This _ . He had spent too much time thinking about  _ this _ . His hands crept to unbutton Mutsuki’s coat, pausing after the first one to affirm that it was okay. He felt the other boy give a rigorous nod and smiled against his lips before working his way down to the rest of them, peeling it off and throwing it to the side.

He felt a set of cool hands work their way below his own shirt, shivering slightly at the touch as they slid up and down his chest before pulling at the bottom. He pulled back, his breaths heavy as he pulled it off and over his head, throwing it to the same area as the coat. He took the extra moment of breath to do the same to his pants, the pressure of the stifling fabric having become much too tight over his groin.

He turned back to Mutsuki, whose eyes red from tears flickered from Urie to the abandoned pants, concerned. Urie sat back down, trying hard to ignore the growing arousal pressing up against his boxers too obviously for his liking. He took Mutsuki’s hands in his own.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he paused, meeting the other boy’s eyes to let him know he was serious before adding, “Those were just, really uncomfortable.”

Mutsuki bit his lip, nodding as his face relaxed before pulling closer to Urie and pressing together their lips once more, slipping his tongue back into his mouth causing another surge of heat to form in his groin.

A heat settled over them like a veil of fire, the atmosphere gripping them, pressing them closer with the pressure of need and of repression. The long days, miles apart catching up at last to leave their scorching marks of lips, and teeth. He crept his lips to the other boy’s chin, and then his neck, at last settling on his collarbone relishing in the taste as he sucked at the skin, pulling it in his teeth before letting it drop back out again.

Their positions had shifted, once both sitting on the bed Urie now hovered just above Mutsuki, the other boy’s head in the pillows. Mutsuki’s breathing was heavy, laboured, his eyes shut as he held his arms firmly around Urie keeping him locked into position.

_ He loved it. _

The way the other boy writhed beneath him, the way whenever he kissed deeper and harder he would suck in a shuddering breath. The way he could hold him like this after so long,  _ so long _ . Because god knows he’s dreamed of it.

“Urie,” Mutsuki’s voice was strained and thick with heaviness almost as if he were struggling to get the words out. Urie slowed, changing the rhythm to gentle kisses.

“Yeah?”

“I was-” he paused for a moment to regain himself, sliding a hand up to hold the nape of Urie’s neck, “-wondering why you painted me. Out of everything.”

He stopped at Mutsuki’s neck, resting his forehead against the reddened skin there. “Why?”

_ Because I used to not know what to paint, because I one day realized I didn’t get to choose what I painted, because some things made my fingers twitch and my heart ache with the urge. Like if I didn’t paint it I would suffocate in it. _

“Can I show you?” he breathed, whispering it into Mutsuki’s ear, letting a hand drop lower to play with the waistband of the other boy’s pants. “Let me show you.”

He felt Mutsuki shiver slightly beneath him, nodding his head and Urie kissed his lips one last time before sliding down lower to the foot of the bed.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you so much for reading <3 <3 You all get every single one of my uwu's
> 
> If you enjoyed please make sure to leave kudos, comment, or subscribe for more!
> 
>  
> 
> Come scream at me here: http://illuminateandrelate.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> Watch me scream here: https://www.instagram.com/kirishimas.kagune/?hl=en


	4. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie wow wow I actually finished a thing its a goddamn miracle, I'm really turning over a new leaf here. I know it not good to depend on reads to motivate you to write but damn everytime someone leaves a nice comment I'd be lying if I said I didn't get hyped as fuck and pumped up to write.
> 
> Anyways, no warnings for this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy~

Mutsuki looked younger when he slept, the worried crease in between his eyes that always seemed so prevalent gone and smoothed out. His hair splayed across his cheeks, his mouth open slightly ajar. Urie couldn’t even care that he had pulled nearly all the blankets over to his side leaving him to the brutality of the night chill.

He sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes and turning to check the clock to his left, 7 AM. About an hour before he usually awoke, he supposed though that they _had_ gone to bed early. He stood up, creeping over to his drawer to find a pair of boxers to fix his nudity, pulling them on before padding back over to the bed, the blankets swaddled around the boy still in the bed, a hint of dawn’s sunlight glinting off his white hair.

Urie bit his lip, flashes of the day before still playing through his mind like reel of disembodied clips. Mutsuki’s thighs clenching by his head, the fingers twisted in his hair, as he brought him up into the clouds, the soft cry as he crashed down and the taste of it all, slick and moist to his lips. Then, the grip of a hand on his own length.

They hadn’t gone any further than that, but Urie wasn’t disappointed, _not even close._ To be able to make Mutsuki’s toes curl into the mattress, to make him euphoric and high, to tear away the grief and the sorrow and the heavy weights dragging him down- them both down. To just stop the descent and _float_. Even if just for a moment. Even if just for a night. That was enough.

Urie let himself gaze down for just one last moment before making his way over to the easel, a crude work in progress from yesterday still lightly etched out with a mix of black and water. He picked up the small tray rested against the canvas, spattered with years of dried on paint and a brush from the jar on the windowsill behind him. He spilled some white paint onto the tray to refresh the canvas and let himself drift into the morning’s serenity; felt the sun as it pulled him up to dawn and the lovely swaddle of night leave him behind for the new day.

 

**_Mutsuki_ **

 

He awoke to the gentle pattern of brush on paper and the heavy staining scent of oil paint filling his sinuses. Mutsuki could feel the heat and light of the shining morning light flecked across his face and he took a deep breath, allowing himself to slowly drift into consciousness. The blankets around him were a soft cotton, gentle and soothing against his skin like a smooth caress, and he rolled over in them flopping out his arm across the bed. A quiet hiss of disapproval sounded through the air his way as he did so and he opened his sleep-bleary eyes.

He reached up a hand to rub the morning blur from his eyes and sat up towards the sound, the blanket dropping to his waist and exposing his scarred and bare chest to the cold elements of autumn. Mutsuki yawned, furrowing his brows in disoriented confusion as he realized the sudden unfamiliar details of the room. He stared forward, _why was he-?_

_Oh… Oh._

The heated acts from the night before flushed into his head and cheeks, causing everything to grow heated in his face. He bit his lip closing his eyes as they rocketed around in a moment of both exhilaration and nerves. Mutsuki took a deep breath, realizing he’d been holding it in his lungs for the past few seconds; curious as to the scratching noise he waited one last beat before gathering his courage, opening his eyes and turning to the source.

“Good morning,” Urie, behind the easel in nothing but boxers and a smock said, turning his attention from the canvas to the boy in his bed.

Mutsuki quirked a brow, "Why are you only wearing those?"

Urie chuckled, an odd and foreign sound to come from those lips, throaty and deep. He turned back to dab some color on the brush before speaking as he painted,

"I woke up and I had an idea," he paused as if thinking, "I also didn't know when you'd wake up so I figured I'd get started on a basic outline before you moved."

"Oh," Mutsuki looked down, biting his lip again, "sorry."

Urie let out another small laugh, this time more what Mutsuki was used to which was a small huff of air, "Don't worry I have one done- an outline I mean."

Mutsuki gave him a tired smile, still trying to recover from the odd sensation of being naked in his bed. It wasn't bad, not really, but it was different. Almost a weird sort of good. Weird good. _That was a new one._

"What time is it?" He asked, turning to pick up the alarm feeling heat flood his face as he felt a large portion of his hip slip into exposure as he stretched.

“Ten o'clock,” Urie spoke just as he turned the face of the clock to himself to inspect. Mutsuki's eyes widened as he glanced at it,

"I have to get up," he nearly choked out, standing up as the blankets dropped to the ground and he froze in realization of what he'd just done. Urie stifled a smirk into his arm as he stood up and walked around the easel towards Mutsuki.

"I just wanted to let you sleep," he said walking towards his dresser and pulling out a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, tossing them towards the other boy who hurriedly dressed. Maybe it was ridiculous of him to feel self-conscious with Urie having already seen him stripped but he couldn't help feeling a creeping sense of dread at being the only one fully exposed to the air. The memories, he supposed.

"Well now I feel like I'm running behind," he retorted, turning back towards Urie as he finished dressing, the clothes slightly big on his frame and smelling vaguely of paint- _as Urie always did_.

“Its Sunday.”

Mutsuki opened his mouth only to close it when an upcoming protest died in his throat. He frowned instead, sitting back down on the side of the bed, “Right.”

The air had suddenly grown dense and awkward, the long stretch of silence between them doing nothing to aid it. Urie sat down beside him, twiddling his paint stained fingers in his lap. Mutsuki stared into the empty space in front of him, thoughts desperate and searching for something else to say before they fossilized there.

He hadn’t meant to do any of what had happened, not the kissing, not the touching, and certainly not what he’d been trying to prevent for the past three years of his life-

_“But I’m really fucking in love with you.”_

_Yeah, me too._

He let out a sigh, rubbing his face with tired fingers, trying to etch away any remnants of sleep before speaking, “How long have you been awake?”

Urie waited a beat before responding, “Since about six o'clock.”

Mutsuki couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from his lips in response, “Six?” he asked, “Have you eaten?”

Urie cracked a grin, shaking his head in response.

Mutsuki stood up and stretched, “Well,” he paused feeling the grumble in his stomach, “I’m hungry, so I’m going to go make something.” He started towards the door, only stopping when he felt a hand grab his wrist, and he turned towards Urie.

“You’ll come back?”

Mutsuki had a vague feeling the other boy meant more than just after breakfast.

He nodded, expression sobering as he looked into Urie’s eyes, and he stepped forward towards him. Maybe he hadn’t meant for the last night to have happened, maybe it was a huge mistake, maybe he was falling back into an old pit of past endeavours, but maybe- maybe being away from the people he loved was worse in a way. Maybe he just needed to live without running.

“Maybe, I’ll come back,” he spoke his voice lowering to a near whisper as he leaned into Urie, “Maybe I’ll stay.”

 

 

 

 

 

**(Please read notes for a note on my writing schedule)**

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! <3 I love you all so much for making it this far in my odd adventure of writing.
> 
> The sad message: My writing is going to get less frequent very soon because of school. I am taking some very hard classes this year (3 APs) and I am going into my hardest year of Highschool (Junior year or my 3rd year). I will try to be as organized with my time as possible but there is a strong possibility I will slip and not be as frequent. I hope you understand <3 . I won't leave without a fight though, I love it here and this community is so much better than my schools.  
> \- Fran

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING <3
> 
> If you enjoyed please make sure to leave kudos, comment, or subscribe for more!
> 
>  
> 
> Come scream at me here: http://illuminateandrelate.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> Watch me scream here: https://www.instagram.com/kirishimas.kagune/?hl=en


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